Breathing
by wdmc
Summary: He never felt lonelier, surrounded by the moving crowd.


Title: Breathing  
  
Warnings: Weirdness.  
  
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: 1+2  
  
Song Credits: Breathing by Lifehouse  
  
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//I've found a long way back to sanity again  
  
Though I don't really know what I'm gonna do  
  
When I get there//  
  
Windbreaker zipped up and hands shoved snugly into deep jeans pockets, he walked bristly down busy streets in late fall.  
  
The streets were drowned by impatient honking of cars, loud whirling of washing machines and hurried footfalls, at the same time, tainted by wisps of black smoke rising in the chilly air and splashes of dirty water against the concrete pavements.  
  
The adults yelled and the babies wailed. A burly man beat on his skinny wife and their children fought over a toy truck. A teenage girl wept and hugged her protruding belly as her boyfriend took off with her best friend on a motorbike. A black man, down on his knees, begged his white landlord not to throw him out of the broken shed. The uncaring crowd walked on.  
  
Unfamiliar faces flashed by, appearing at one instant, disappearing the next, so fast that they merged into blurriness, becoming a faceless crowd. The myriad of bodies, lackluster, walked past each other, shoulders brushing, minds absorbed by private thoughts.  
  
He never felt lonelier, surrounded by the moving crowd.  
  
//Take a breath and hold on tight  
  
And spin around one more time  
  
And gracefully fall back to the arms of grace//  
  
Turning round the end of a busy street, he made his way down a long, winding dirt path, its sides lined with tall trees shedding dead leaves. Things like these, though devoid of life, still held vibrant colors of red and orange and gold, so unlike the monochromatic masses of people who lived life with no zest.  
  
Thin, tall trees arched over the dirt path, its rich canopy shielding it from the grey sky, from the rest of the world. A breeze swept across layers of autumn leaves, rustling them gently. Little birds, perched on darkened branches, prepared to leave their nests for somewhere warm while red squirrels scurried around the trees for food to stock up for the upcoming winter.  
  
He walked alone, on the path carpeted by fallen leaves.  
  
//I'm looking past the shadows in my mind  
  
Into the truth and I'm  
  
Trying to identify the voices in my head  
  
God, which one's you//  
  
The dirt path led to the wrought iron gates of an asylum, its pristine white walls gleaming in the strong sunlight, momentarily blinding the boy. The humble two-storied building stood in a small clearing, a little into the woods, far away from the city. Though the weather was cold, the asylum's few windows were opened wide, thin blue sheets of cotton fluttering in the wind.  
  
Pushed open, the twin doors creaked, admitting the boy to a dingy little hall with an off-white counter and a threadbare couch. A young lady dressed in starched white uniform sat behind a wooden desk and filed her nails while she read a fashion magazine. No one, in his supposed 'right mind' would want to work in a place full of lunatics unless he was pretty hard up for money.  
  
Tick, tick, tick.  
  
The clock, the only object adorning the bare walls, ticked loudly in the dead silence. His entrance was barely a disturbance to the indolent place because his timed footfalls were in sync with the ticking of the old timepiece. He exchanged nods with the nurse on duty, silent acknowledgments of his daily visits.  
  
The rubber of his soles slapped loudly against the tiled floor.  
  
//'Cause I want nothing more  
  
Than to sit outside Heaven's door  
  
And listen to you breathing  
  
It's where I wanna be//  
  
He walked down the narrow corridors.  
  
301. 302. . 304.  
  
Room 304 - Duo Maxwell. That was the room that housed all his hopes and dreams - hopes and dreams that were supposed to break free of all bonds and soar high in the sky, but they had been held captive by the four padded walls of a cell, locked out from civility. Duo had his arms encased in a straightjacket. He flung his body against the door and let out a maniac guffaw.  
  
The strong vibrations caused the boy on the other side of the door to shake as he slid down to the floor and drew his knees to his chest. In this sterile, bare place, outside Duo's cell, was his sanctuary from the merciless and callous world. Here, he could cope with the silence, the pain. Here, he could savor what little he could of his friend's company. Here, he could dream of what might have been, if he had told Duo what he felt about him.  
  
Maybe, maybe then the indigo-eyed boy wouldn't lose his sanity.  
  
//'Cause I'm hanging on every word you say  
  
And even if you don't wanna speak tonight  
  
That's alright, alright with me//  
  
Ever since the day the war ended, Duo started to talk to himself, started to see things that others could not and started to get emotionally unstable. He went through erratic bouts of euphoria and depression, reacting to his surroundings violently. Once, he almost yanked off Quarte's arm for making him tea instead of coffee.  
  
Duo, who had previously enjoyed mundane chatter, became increasingly reticent and finally mute. The doctors could not come up with a unanimous diagnosis of his muteness, so they suggested vaguely that he might be fast becoming a recluse. They also cautioned the other boys whom he shared an apartment with about his inexistent control of violence that would put their lives in great jeopardy, but they had not known that the boys' very way to attaining peace was through brutality.  
  
//Let me feel one more time what it  
  
Feels like to feel and  
  
Break these calluses off of me one more time//  
  
The pilots had dismissed the doctors' repeated advice and brought Duo back home, confident that if he could survive the chaotic war, he could fight his inner conflict. But they were wrong, very, very wrong. Duo sunk deeper and deeper into depression and had taken inflicting pain onto his own body. He bled himself with a razor in the bathroom one day, almost losing his life on the way to the emergency room.  
  
Too held up with the Preventer's attempt to conserve the fragile peace that they had fought for with their lives, they had entrusted Duo in the care of the "professionals" at the asylum with great reluctance. Trowa, Quarte and Wufei dropped by to visit Duo whenever they could take the time off, but it was Heero who visited him dutifully at 5 pm everyday, upon his request to get off work at 4.45pm.  
  
//I don't want a thing from you  
  
I bet you're tired of me  
  
Waiting for the scratch to fall off  
  
Of your table to the ground...  
  
'Cause I just wanna be here now//  
  
As the lights died out, indicating the end of the visiting hours, Heero got up from the floor and dusted himself off. He took a look at Duo, illuminated by the weak moonlight from the safety window. The oblivious boy banged his messy-haired head futilely against the padded walls, wide eyes staring blankly into space, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth as he chuckled at something in his mind's eye.  
  
Somehow, Heero knew that Duo was aware of his presence, but had chosen to ignore him. He was probably trying to make him give up on him. That had been very thoughtful of Duo, but Heero Yuy never gave up, especially not on someone so special to him. He felt that he could hold on to that little bit of humanity only in Duo's presence.  
  
Fingering the bracelet that was woven by Duo's fallen chestnut hair, he whispered to the door:  
  
"Duo, if only you knew."  
  
He walked down the narrow corridors, out of the concrete building and back into the darkened world he dreaded the most.  
  
---THE END. 


End file.
